I didn’t sleep well last night. I think I inherited my grandmother Noni’s little problem. She could not sleep on the night of a full moon. Neither can I.
Already cranky with exhaustion, I was especially annoyed when Attila’s arm kept dropping across my back and jostling me fully awake just as I was about to succumb to the joys of unconsciousness. The third time this happened, annoyance changed into worry. Attila just doesn’t do stuff like that. I turned on the light to discover his eyes open, his pillow drenched, and his extremities cold and clammy. For a moment, I thought I had lost him.
I “woke” Attila, even though his eyes were already open. He was totally confused and not too thrilled that I was rousing him from what he thought was blessed sleep. I asked him to tell me what year this is and he replied ”76″ but didn’t seem too sure about it. I told him he wasn’t even in the right century. I asked him to tell me my name and he rattled off a number (and it wasn’t my serial number). Now that I think about it, it might have been one of our old phone numbers.
Attila started pointing at the wall (this guy is not normally a pointer - he was raised to believe that pointing is rude). And he kept twisting his mouth into weird shapes, as though he was just learning that he owned one (not unlike our grandson Jayden!). He was really, really goofy – in a sort-of-cute-but-also-scary way.
And I would have been terrified by all this if it had not been the third time it has happened in the last month. The first time I called 911 and agreed that the ambulance should take Attila to Paoli Hospital for tests. Ashley and Leigha drove along with me in my car, sniffling for most of the trip.
By the time we all arrived at the ER, Attila had recovered his senses and was flirting outrageously with the nurses. The doctor admitted him overnight and a battery of tests were done – an MRI, an MRA, a cat scan, and an ultrasound of the carotid artery. All test results were unremarkable.
Two weeks later I was home on a Friday morning when Attila got up to go to his scheduled nephrologist appointment (kidney doctor). He came downstairs with no shoes on. I thought to myself, “Here we go again.”
He was extremely confused. He couldn’t remember what month it was. He was starving so he ate cereal and when he tested his own blood sugar the level was in the normal range. So I drove him to his perfectly-timed appointment and Dr. Michael called the neurologist for us while we were in his office. By this time, Attila was back to his old self. The neurologist told the nephrologist that he could temporarily put Attila on Plavix in case these two events were stroke-related.
Attila saw his neurologist a few days later, but by then he had figured out in his own head that the problem was most likely due to abnormally low blood sugar, which you always have to monitor closely with insulin-dependent diabetics. Both incidents had occurred upon waking, and then cleared up once Attila got food into his body. The neurologist told us that strokes don’t happen in the same exact way twice, so he ruled that out (stroke is a real concern since Attila has already suffered two in his lifetime). Dr. Gardner said that it could possibly be seizure activity, but he thought low blood sugar was the more likely culprit.
And then this morning happened. I immediately did think it might be low blood sugar, but stupid me has never learned to use the test kit and Attila was unable to perform the test himself. He couldn’t keep a single thought in his head. He just let the test kit sit on his belly while staring at me like I was the crazy one (okay, he might be half-right on that). So I made him chew three of the cherry glucose tablets we keep in the bedside table, and called 911. Again.
So that is how I ended up in my third floor bedroom with Five Guys at Five. (Four were pretty hot and one was in a cold sweat wearing tighty whities, but I digress.) By the time the police officer and three EMTs arrived, Attila was coming out of his confused state. He knew my name, the year he was born, and even the police officer’s name (he has been here before).
One of the EMTs tested Attila’s sugar. It was 61, which is pretty low. That means that when I roused him at 4:45am it was probably about 40, since the glucose tablets work pretty fast and had kicked in by the time the professionals arrived on the scene.
I was asked to fix Attila something to eat. I told them “I don’t cook, Attila does!” I don’t think they were able to fully appreciate my sense of humor. So I scurried off to the kitchen and brought Attila some juice and a large bowl of cereal.
After the juice, Attila’s blood sugar rose to 75. Attila commented that it was a really huge bowl of cereal, but then proceeded to eat the whole thing and slurp the last drops of milk from the bowl. He might even have smacked his lips when he was done, but I can’t be sure. I was too busy hyperventilating from running the two flights of stairs for about the hundreth time this morning.
It was agreed that Attila did not need to go to the hospital. I was given my marching orders: 1) Call the endocrinologist (diabetes doctor) first thing this morning, and 2) learn to test Attila’s blood sugar. So, while I wait for the doctor’s office to open, I blog. And Attila sleeps, perchance to snore. Okay, if he doesn’t wear his CPAP mask, then it will be to snore for sure!
